


Guardian Brothers

by FluffyPuffySheeps



Series: The Many Faces of Tim Drake [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Capes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bit of a sicfic, Brotherly Bonding, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Emotional Manipulation, Fire, Fluff, Gen, Guardian Angels, Holidays, References to Depression, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, implied child neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyPuffySheeps/pseuds/FluffyPuffySheeps
Summary: Only one human in history managed to get not one, not two, but THREE  guardian angels.His name is Tim Drake.(Disclaimer: this is the fluffiest, most disgustingly sweet platonic fic ever)
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: The Many Faces of Tim Drake [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706092
Comments: 34
Kudos: 415





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Tim Drake! 
> 
> So: Here's a not in chronological order, long, one shot, and a continuation in my quest to take every AU traditionally used as a romance kickstarter into a disgustingly fluffly and sweet platonic bonding fic.
> 
> TWs for: sucidal thoughts, mentions of suicide, unhealthy thinking (on Tim's part), i make one reference toward the bad guys insulting immigrants but like,,,,, clearly no body else agrees and they're the bad guys, still be careful, ummm gaurdian angel au so obviosly some references to 'above', i kept it as vague as possible, errrrrr if you can't tell I'm being real careful here, and will add if y'all think i missed something.

It’s not often a human gets a guardian angel.

It’s practically never when one gets multiple.

But here they are, Dick, Jason and Damian, all in the same human’s bedroom.

It only escalates from there.

_______________________________

“Does he always do this?” Jason asks, idly smoking on a cigarette, which Dick is pretty certain is against the rules. Dick could care less though.

“Always.” Dick moans, head in his hands.

Tim takes another sip of redbull infused coffee and Dick’s about ready to scream. Three angels was not enough. They needed a whole army for this one. For heaven’s sake, they needed an entire squad dedicated to keeping his caffeine intake down.

Jason considers this for a second.

Then he gives the coffee mug enough of a nudge that it falls on to the ground.

Tim shrieks, a high pitched sound  _ people shouldn’t be able to make _ and scrambles to the ground, mumbling something intelligible about his ‘life blood’. Jason simply snickers and goes to pilfer the coffee grounds. Well. At least Jason’s doing something.

__________________________________

The first few days are the hardest- Damian takes one look at the human they are meant to watch out for, small and pale and weak in every visible way, and downright  _ snarls. _

Damian never did do well on these kinds of jobs anyway. He was more solver than listener, more processing than field work. Either way, he’s out the door before the other two can stop him, refusing to take on the job.

Jason sticks around a bit longer, asking the important questions- like why would one human need three of  _ them _ ? But he, too, chalks it up to a cosmic mistake, and goes off to find someone in need of more help then this ‘rich kid who doesn’t have any  _ real _ problems’. He’s in Crime Alley within the hour.

And Dick is left by himself, desperately attempting to make sense of it all.

_____________________________

Tim gives his bodyguard a grateful look, after Jason returns from chasing all the paparazzi away. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. I dunno what they want to take pictures of so much, though. All you ever seem to do is drink coffee, work, and go to school.”

“Hey! I do other things with my time.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Jason challenges him. “‘Cause I’m not ever sure you sleep anymore kid.”

“I sleep. Sometimes. Occasionally. Once in a while. When I have time.”

“And when, exactly, is this magical time you get to sleep?”

Tim shrinks a little into himself. “Weekends?”

Jason laughs, sad and loud, booming and bold, like everything the man does. “In that case, you’ve got a thirty minute drive to the meeting in Metropolis. Might as well catch a nap.”

“But I’ve got to finish compiling the reports for the presentation-”

“The presentation that you stayed late at the office to finish. I know, because I had to wait for you. It’ll be fine, kid. Besides, you can’t give a presentation if you look dead on your feet. Take a nap.”

Tim stares at the hulking behemoth, and thinks, not for the last time, how in the world did Jason end up as his bodyguard. He’s not really sure, to be honest. “I guess, if you insist…”

Awkwardly, he leans back against his seat, squirming to find a comfy position, until Jason and his stupidly big, warm, paws- for- hands, take hold of the back of his neck and guide him down till Tim’s head is resting in his lap. Tim closes his dry, tired from too many days of holding them open, eyes, and simply relaxes into his bodyguard’s warmth. Jason lifts a hand, carding through strands in his hair, gently tugging,, and this- this is heaven. It can’t get much better than this, Tim thinks idly, already drifting away.

Deep down, he’s aware it’s a little weird. One probably shouldn’t be this close to a bodyguard, he’s basically accepting comfort from a stranger, but Tim doesn’t really care anymore. It should be depressing how desperate he is for this touch, but it’s nice.

Maybe one day he won’t be so desperate for this. Maybe with his new neighbour, maybe with his bodyguard, maybe with the weird new student in his online college classes, he’ll have people around him again.

It’s that thought that lingers in his mind when he finally gives into the calm dark of sleep.

_____________________________

Dick does not understand this human, this- Tim. Tim is strange. Tim is interesting. And Tim is concerning- no TIM DON’T STOP PLEASE WHY THAT’S A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP.

Dick stays invisible and watches for the first few days, to get his bearings. Needless to say, he does not get his bearings.

Now, Dick has helped a lot of people throughout the years. He’s been around the world, seen some of the worst things humans can do to each other. Tim’s situation doesn’t even come close to how bad things can get. But bad is bad, and Dick is not going to compare traumas, because none of it is good.

Within a few days, Dick has figured out that Tim has devastingly low self esteem, some form of depression, a caffeine addiction, and is unbearably  _ lonely _ .

Dick has seen a lot, but something about the small black haired boy made him want to sweep him up in his arms and cuddle him.

Most angels stay invisible as they help, choosing to be silent guardians. For this case, Dick believes it deserves something different, something that up above would say is a last resort but Dick prefers to refer to as an alternate option. After all, Self esteem issues are hard to get over without another person to help. And maybe Dick wants to see if he can get those cuddles too.

After his self allotted time is up, Dick rents out the apartment next to Tim’s, messes with Tim’s memories a bit (can’t have him wondering why his neighbour is so dang interested in keeping him alive, or why he never seems to work) and knocks on the door.

_____________________________

Tim, clearly, does not understand. 

He keeps asking why Dick is coming over all the time.

Dick spins some sob story about how he just lost his mom and needs the support in his life. Tim seems satisfied enough, though it’s pretty easy to tell he thinks Dick’s going to drop him as soon as he gets over his mom’s death.

For the first time, the angel gets why three of them were sent.

_________________________________

Damian knocks quickly, feeling nervous. No. Wait. He is Damian Al Ghul, of the high orders. He does not get nervous. He is merely… concerned as to what Tim might have in store for the first time he’s ever been invited to the man’s apartment.

Tim opens the door, a quiet smile on his face. He looks... brighter than the last time Damian saw him, on that day when he found himself in the same room as his brothers- in- arms.The circles under his eyes, the thin frame, the pale-till-it’s-almost-white skin is all there, but he looks a little less tired.

“Damian! Good to see you! Wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Of course I would come, Timothy, I gave you my word, didn’t I?”

Tim rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s true, I just… Never mind. Hope you don’t mind, I invited my neighbour over and my bodyguard’s here as well, so we could all play a board game.”

Ah, so Timothy has other friends than just him? This is a good development.

“That is acceptable.” Damian says distractingly, taking off his coat and hanging it up. “A bodyguard?”

“Oh yeah, remember how I told you I work at Drake Enterprises? Well, they require me to have a bodyguard sometimes. He’s pretty cool. Technically, I think this goes against his contract, hanging out, but he says it's ok so I think we’re good? I don’t know.”

It’s the most vague way possible Timothy can talk about his job without mentioning his position as CEO, but if Timothy would prefer to remain anonymous, that is his decision. “I’m certain it’s fi-”   
  


Damian breaks off and stares at the living room while Dick starts to laugh and Jason glares at him.

“Is everything alright?”

Stupid Timothy, and his stupid ways of caring too much for those around him and not enough for himself.

“It’s fine.” Damian sighs, and Dick leaps out of his chair to give him a full body hug. “Hello, Dick.”   
  


“Do you- do you two know each other?”

“Yep!” Dick chirps. “Damian’s my brother.”

“Oh.” Tim says, evidently surprised. “Wow. Um. Ok. Wait, though, Dick, if you’re Jason’s brother as well, then-”

Jason sighs, a long put upon sigh. “Damian’s my brother too.”

“Oh. Uh. Cool.” Tim mumbles meekly. Damian takes another second to hug his brother back, not that he'll admit it- it’s only for Dick’s benefit, obviously. He moves to extract himself when he catches Timothy inching away, obviously intending to leave them all alone to their reunion. Dick looks sad, when he sees him leaving, Jason is about ready to growl, and Damian…

Damian looks at Tim and scrunches up his nose. “Does Dick do this to you, too?”

“I-uh.” Caught in the act, Tim shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. “Yeah. I think it’s a Dick thing. He does it to everyone.”

“Amen to that.” Jason chimes in. “He hugs the doorman, the doctor,  _ everybody. _ ”   
  


“Hey! I’m right here!”

They all laugh, and Tim’s shoulders relax a bit, as Jason gets him in a head lock and drags him over to the table where Settlers of Catan is set up. Dick tugs Damian back to him and whispers in his ear.

“I wasn’t sure if you were still invested in this.”

“He needs a lot of help. Figured I would do more good than you plebeians. ” Damian whispers back, equally quietly. 

Dick laughs, a small laugh, and as bitter as Damian has ever heard it. “He does, doesn’t he? Admit it, though, he’s a pretty cool guy to hang out with.”

Damian stammers something out, and Dick only laughs in his face.

_______________________________

Tim’s new neighbour is very tactile. Extremely tactile. So tactile he gives new meaning to the word tactile.

And Tim absolutely  _ loves it _ .

Okay, that sounds a bit weird, but it isn’t like Tim’s not aware of his issues. He knows he’s depressed and friendless and definitely touch starved but you know what, he doesn’t have time to fix any of his issues. He has... Work. And people who depend on him for paychecks. And friends who constantly need someone to listen to them, and they have so many problems, what does it matter that Tim doesn’t have anyone who will listen to his problems?

So when Dick passes him in the hallway and invites him back to his place for hot chocolate and a movie, (because I finally checked out the latest Marvel one, Timmy, it’s  _ always  _ checked out of the library) Tim really, really wants to say yes. But… work. And other things. Like helping Kon through his latest crisis.

“C’mon, Timmy.” Dick whines. “I don’t want to be one of those losers who watches movies by themselves!”

Well… if Dick really needs it…

“Please?” His neighbour asks, suddenly sober and serious for reasons Tim doesn’t quite understand. 

“I guess so. It’s- the movie’s not too long, is it?”

“Nope! C’mon, this is gonna be great!”

__________________________________

Apparently, Tim wants Dick to meet his new bodyguard. They’re going out for coffee at Jason’s favorite cafe, one of those book nook types. Not typical fare for someone in protective services, but as long as Timmy’s making friends, Dick is more than happy to indulge him.

He’s just hoping this bodyguard isn’t another Kon. Or Bart. Or Cassie. Or Anita. Or even a Steph.

Though Steph is an ex of Tim’s, so Jason can’t be one of those. Though, given Timmy’’s terrible luck, he might actually be.

Tim chatters to him excitedly about Jason, the most excited Dick’s seen Tim in a long while, as they walk. Dick, without warning, scoops up into a full body hug, nuzzling into his charge’s hair. Tim squeaks, but Dick’s got the high every guardian angel gets, the thrill at helping someone find happiness again.

They walk in, and-

Dick grabs Tim’s arm and hisses-

“When you said Jason, you meant  _ Jason _ ?  _ THE _ Jason?  _ My _ Jason?”

“Oh, uh, hi, Dickie. Fancy meeting you here.” Jason, the complete jerk he is, says, looking entirely unconcerned about the stress Dick’s been under. He’s even eating a slice of chocolate cake, cake he doesn't deserve for leaving Dick all on his own to help this wonderful, incredibly sad kid.

“I. Am going to murder you.” Dick growls, giving him the death stare. “How dare you. You know where I live, you know what I’ve been doing, and you don’t bother to inform me you’ve been working with  _ my neighbour _ ?”

“Well golly gee I didn’t know you’d care so much!” Jason barks back.

“Of course I’d care! He’s my friend! You know he is! It isn’t too much work to tell me that you work with him now!”

“Oh, I’m  _ sorry _ , I just assumed you knew everything,  _ Big brother _ .”

“Is that. Um. Is that a problem.” Tim asks quietly, sadly, shrinking away already. “I can, uh, leave, if that helps.”

They both turn to look at him and shout the same exact thing together.

“No!” 

___________________________

Tim enjoys the hot chocolate, and the movie, but he goes back to work again.

It’s not the last time his neighbour invites him over, though.

After three movies, Tim feels comfortable enough with Dick to snatch one of his blankets up and curl into a blanket burrito. After four, Dick declares his blanket burrito and general self too cute and warm to sit alone, and so Tim sidles into Dick’s side. After six, Tim cautiously leans his head onto Dick’s shoulder. Dick doesn’t react much, so Tim figures he’s good.

By movie number ten, Dick plucks Tim from his spot by him, and plops him onto his lap. Tim is too stunned to react, which is a mistake- Dick immediately traps him there in a tight hug and doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

To be fair, they were watching Bambi. Actually that makes sense, what with Dick’s mom and all that…

But Dick does it again, the next time. And the next. And the next. It’s not sexual or anything, just intimate in a way people normally aren’t with their neighbours. Siblings, perhaps. Brothers. Does Dick see him as a-?

Eventually, Tim gets used to a comfy and warm lap, chooses not to question it, and chalks the whole thing up to Dick’s need to touch and feel and hug everything.

Besides, he’s not complaining. Dick’s really nice, and nobody’s hugged Tim like that in a long time.

Not since…

Not since Stephanie. 

But she hugged him quick, like she was eager to get to the kissing, to get what she wanted.

Tim doesn’t like to think about her.

Even as his mind is running in that circle, Dick seems to sense it, and knocks on his door, yelling something about how they need to have movie night at Tim’s place one of these days.

_________________________________

Damian spends a while beating people up in an animal trafficking ring. Angel of Vengeance thing and all that.

Then he spends a while helping animals in the shelter get adopted. 

Then he spends helping struggling students who were taking veterinary courses.

Ok, so maybe he had one interest and one interest only, but it was a  _ good cause _ . And it wasn’t like he was neglecting his assignment. He keeps tabs on one Timothy Jackson Drake. Richard has moved in beside him, helping with friendships and such, while Jason has taken a job as his bodyguard. He works with Tim’s work life and physical needs.

Of course, neither of them seemed to be aware of Timothy’s online college classes. But surely they were and simply chose not to interfere. Nothing more to it. 

Damian checks up on his classes, one day, on a whim- a minor in arts, specifically photography, and a business major. He wasn’t… failing, per se. More doing badly, about to fail, but not failing  _ yet. _

It doesn’t take much to fudge the records a bit and join the classes. Damian has always liked the arts, after all. And it doesn’t take much more to comment on Timothy’s discussion posts, to offer little tips and tricks. And it isn’t too much of a leap to offer to work with Timothy on his papers and provide a bit of guidance.

So it’s a bit surprising when Timothy asks him if he wants to meet up and study for the business final together.

(It should absolutely not have been surprising at all).

(They should have met up much, much sooner.)

(Maybe the breakdown when Damian asks about his grades could have been avoided.)   
  


(But you know what they say about hindsight.)

  
  


__________________________________________

  
  


The day Timothy graduates college is an absolutely perfect day.

He meets them after the ceremony, wearing one of the brightest grins Dick’s ever seen on his face, waving his diploma in the air and looking like he’s about to walk on air. Unable to restrain himself, Dick picks him up and twirls him around, squeezing as tight as he can.

“Hey Goldie! Hand him over! Some of us want hugs too!” Jason yells at him, and Dick happily passes Tim off to him, who sucks Timmy into a bone crushing hug of his own. It won’t be now, but later, Damian takes him in his own hug, just before they part ways for the night.

Dick snatches Timmy back and whispers in his ear “I’m so proud of you.”

Tim’s smile stretches impossibly wider. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dick whispers, then pulls him in closer, pretending to not notice the way Tim is sort of sniffling into his chest.

“Yo hot stuff! I wanna see the diploma!”

Another group approaches them, Pru, Owens, and Z, friends that Tim’s made from his classes. It nearly brings tears to Dick’s eyes thinking about the first time he brought them home- ok, yes, he realizes he’s acting like a mom, but it’s  _ true _ , and it’s so amazing how far Tim’s gotten from his old friends.

“Do you think we should move on now?” Jason asks as he sidles in next to him. “Tim’s got new buddies to keep him in check. And we're really not supposed to spend more time than we have to, or management gets mad.”

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Dick says, hesitant. “Maybe not right now. Transition period and all that. I’m not really sure we can get away with leaving so easily though, considering his abandonment issues.”

“Oh, get a hold of yourself Richard.” Damian barks. “We’ve already broken quite a few rules, why not a few more? I know I speak for all of us when I say I want to be here, with him. He’s our brother, now. We don’t leave him behind.”

Dick’s eyes widen, and he casts his mind back to figure out when he started agreeing, when he called his newest assignment a  _ brother _ , and realizes he can’t. It’s all intertwined, and now he can’t imagine his life without Tim in it. It’s not protocol, but it is what is. They’re together for good.

Tim laughs with his friends, and yells at them to come join him in a picture, and Dick can’t help but shed a few actual tears at how far he’s come.

___________________________

Damian and Jason look at each other slowly, exasperation evident.

Then they look at Tim, who is tied up in a chair for some hostage situation and currently is coaching some thug through his life problems while ignoring the bump on his own head.

It's the fifth time this week.

Time for a bit of an 'intervention'. The divine kind.

____________________________________

Jason finishes silently guarding yet another woman home in Crime Alley, tailing behind her, sending silent impressions and tapping her on the shoulders a few times, simply to get her home safely. He never tires of this- keeping them all safe. It doesn’t get old.

He ducks into an alleyway, looking for someone else to help, but stops when he sees him.

The one.

The original assignment.

Timothy Jackson Drake, the most pretentious sounding name ever.

What’s he doing  _ here _ ?

But there’s no time to think about that, because one Timothy Jackson Drake is currently getting beat up by five men in an alley, one who’s counting the money they’ve stolen from him, the other four yelling something about how Drake Enterprises is giving jobs to all those ‘filthy immigrants!’

(Only filthy ones here are the men)

Tim’s curled into a little ball, bruised and battered, bleeding, and-

Pretentious or not, no one deserves that.

Jason becomes visible again, in time to throw a fist straight into a man's nose. He becomes a whirlwind of rage against drunk men like these, who are nothing but violent and disgusting, vile specimens of humanity. By the time he’s finished- not nearly long enough, not for him, they’re all on the ground unconscious, and Timothy Jackson Drake is attempting to stand up. Attempting being the key word there, because as soon as he stands up, he sways, then begins to fall and crash.

Jason darts out, hands outstretched, to catch him just in time. He lowers Tim to the ground slowly. The boy's unconscious now, likely because of a massive gash in his side from a knife. Blood is gushing out an alarming rate, soaking Tim's shirt and Jason's hand in sickly sweet smelling sticky red. Something has to be done. Well, not something, because there is only one option left now if Jason doesn't want Tim to bleed out right now.

Which he doesn't. Not really.

He checks the alley for watchers. They're alone. The broken and bleeding body beneath him is quickly becoming a corpse- he thinks Tim's unconscious, but there's no more time to waste anymore.

For Tim. 

After all, there has to be a reason  _ three _ angels were sent, isn't there?

Power fills him as wings sprout from his back, tearing through skin in a display of sinewy muscle, and hundreds of eyes sprout on his face, showing multiple visions of each of the dimensions. His legs split into a thousand fragments, until it's hard to distinguish limbs and shapes in his lower half. The body newly shaped is grotesque in some beautiful, otherworldly way that makes people scream and gasp in awe at the same time. All impressive in the right moments, but right now, what's more important is the heat filling Jason's bones as he lays his hands on the gash. Pure  _ life _ pours out, weaving the skin and organs together, as Tim lets out gasps and shriek.

Not fun stuff- your body forcibly healing itself in minutes.

Jason hoists the boy up on his arms- he's light. Far too light. It's almost difficult to get a grip on him with Jason's big hands and the kid's toothpick legs.

Tim is small and tiny and oh gosh he's kind of precious, with the ruffle-able black hair and extra little self.

He takes him back to an apartment - Jason doesn't need sleep or food, so it's pretty useless to get a place of his own. But he knows the owners of this apartment are gone on a trip, and he can set a light glamour so no one notices they're holed up there. 

It takes three days for Tim to wake up.

During that time, Dick calls him exactly 17 times but never tells him why.

Once Tim is up, Jason muddles his memories a bit, puts him to sleep again, and drops him off in his work office. He stays to make sure he's found- though no one seems concerned about his safety or whereabouts  _ at all  _ but rather angry at him because he made the stock drop. It makes Jason feel all kinds of angry and worried and guilty, especially since the whole reason Tim was down is Crime Alley was charity. The real kind, too, the kind that does it's very best to fix and help and  _ be there _ for the people who need it.

Jason gets another phone call from Dick, then. He doesn't mention why he's calling.

"Hey Dickie." Jason asks, as Dick is finishing up his rant about how they changed the recipe of his favourite cereal,  _ again,  _ you don't understand Jason, this is serious. "How's little Timbo doing?"

Dick pauses, something suspicious in his voice. "Why are you asking?"

"Just curious."

"He's doing better than he was, I think, but he-" Dick's voice breaks a little, tears only barely held back as Dick takes a shuddering sigh "Jay, I have no idea what I'm doing."

Jason frowns. Dick  _ always _ knows how to help.

"It's like he's - I don't know! I say things like, hang out with me, come over, and I give him hugs and positive encouragement and talk and listen when  _ he _ talks, which is almost never. I don't even know what to  _ do _ anymore. He's still scarily thin and quiet and looks at me like a kicked dog every time I tell him he's awesome and I-I-" Dick breathes in low and quiet, hitching a little. "Every time I hug him or touch him, he presses into it like it's the last time it's going to happen to him. I- I don't know how to get him to believe me, that I care!"

Dick absolutely  _ breaks down _ now and is sobbing on the other side of his phone.

"Hey. Hey, Dickie you're doing your best. He'll be alright."

"No! No he won't be! Sometimes I come over and instead of in his place, he'll be on the roof, 'looking at stars'! What if one of these days he's not on the roof when I get there, but below it? Jay, what if-" Dick cuts himself off and reigns in his obvious distress. "Never mind. Sorry. I know you want nothing to do with this. Bye Jay. Thanks for listening to me."

His older brother hangs up before Jason tells him, no, that's not it at all, I want Tim to find happiness too.

He doesn't spend much wondering what changed his mind.

Jason Todd is registered in Drake employee records as a bodyguard for Mr. Timothy Drake the next day.

__________________________________

"I guess so. It's - The movie's not going to be too long, is it?"

The first time Tim comes over for hot chocolate, and a movie, Dick's so happy he feels like he could burst. Tim doesn't grab a blanket, and instead sits rather stiff on his couch. But. Progress.

It's a bit easier to get him to come back. Not much easier, but he does it, and its the end result that matters, right? 

It's another personal victory when Tim feels comfortable enough with Dick to snatch one of his blankets up and curl into a blanket burrito. Blankets purchased specifically for that purpose, and dang, Tim looks like a small fluffy kitten in there. After four movies, Dick can not hold himself back anymore. The blanket burrito finds its way next to Dick’s side and Tim presses desperately into the contact. It's so cute and sweet that all he wants to do is cuddle the kid.

Kid? Yeah he's 19 but…

He just seems so young. 

Some number of movies later, Tim cautiously leans his head onto Dick’s shoulder. Dick is absolutely frozen, using all of his angelic powers and experience to keep as still and non- threatening as possible. It's a magical moment, this tentative trust placed in him. Nothing is going compare to this.

By movie number ten, Dick is tired of waiting. For all of Tim's brilliance, he's not very brave, and it's clear that he isn't going to make the first move. So he plucks Tim from his spot by him, and plops him onto his lap. Tim is too stunned to react, which is wonderful - Dick immediately traps him there in a tight hug that he's been longing to give and doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

Tim is confused.

But it's so hard  _ not _ to hug him, so Tim eventually gets used to his new seat, and Dick stops worrying about the fact that it's kind of weird and focuses on making sure to give all the touch Tim seems to be alright with (which is all of it, really).

__________________________________

" **_Achooo!_ ** " Tim sneezes again, lying half dead on the sofa. " _ Achoo, achoo, achOoo!" _

"Woah, slow down there buddy." Dick says, leaning over the sofa to take a look at him. "I think you've already won the world record for sneezes in a row."

"Not fuddy Dip." Tim snarls back at him. He's exhausted and sore and completely done with this nasty cold.

"Dang, did Babybird grow a spine?" Jason gasps dramatically. 

Tim swears at him and burrows back into his nest of blankets.

"Sorry Tim." Dick says contritely. "Didn't mean to insult you. Had no idea you've been bedridden for days when I stopped by. Speaking of which, Jay, why didn't you tell me? I could've come over and helped! Or at the very least, you could've stopped by and had dinner with me!"

"Yeah, well, I've had a sick little bird ta take care of these past few days." Jason shoots back.

That hurts a little, but Jason's right, of course, he's nothing but a burden that Jasin feels obligated to take care of due to his job. That's it. It's perfectly understandable that Jason doesn't want to be here.

"You don't have to, you know-" Tim suddenly cuts himself off in a fit of coughing. Jason patiently hands him a cup of water, but stops him before he starts to speak again.

"No, I don't  _ have  _ to be here, but I  _ want _ to be here. I've said it before, I'll say it again, I enjoy spending time with you, you need help right now, and I am perfectly willing to help you."

Dick coughs, in the background mumbling something about 'literal perfect help'.

"You are not a burden, and you don't need to apologize because you would've done the same for me. Got it?"

"Got it." Tim mumbles, embarrassed now and blushing. Somehow, Jason aleays knows what he's thinking, so much so that Tim is half convinces Jason is a mindreader. "Thank you, anyway. "

Jason arches an eyebrow. "Of course. When else could I spoon feed you soup?"

Wait. What?

Dick approaches with a bowl and spoon in hand, grinning disturbingly. 

"Open up, Timmy!"

__________________________________

"His fever's rising." Dick informs him worriedly, sinking into the couch next to Jason. "He's started babbling."

"Oh yeah? What'd he say?"

"Couple of, don't leave me-s, I don't want to be alone anymore, which was  _ not _ fun to hear, some apologies, and then he went on this rant about a winged monster with creepy eyes and literally impossible legs? He got pretty into that rant." Dick stares and Jason pointedly and he squirms a bit.

"Ok, so  _ maybe _ there were some extenuating circumstances that preceded me revealing my true form, and  _ hypothetically  _ he may have been awake at the time, and there may be a  _ chance  _ I didn't notice he was conscious. But hey, it's in the past."

"Jay." Dick's got his 'I'm disappointed in you' face on and it's killing Jason. "It better be some good extenuating circumstances."

"Um, Timbo was kinda maybe sort of bleeding out? Like dying? And I had to heal him?"

" _ What _ ?"

Oops. Perhaps he should've mentioned this sooner.

________________________________________________

"Hey, thanks for agreeing to come with me."

"It is my pleasure." Damain says, secretly pleased that it was him chosen for this particular excursion. He can't wait to gloat about it at the weekly meeting with Dick and Jason. "I'm afraid I still don't understand why we are here, though?"

"Oh, this is my childhood home. Lot of memories here. Drake Manor, ya know?" Tim says, unlocking the doors and disabling the security.

"I'm afraid I don't know ."

With this new perspective in mind, Damain takes another look around at the mansion. It looks like a picture perfect home lifted straight out of 'stereotypical manor magazine'. Despite the aggressively normal and blending in that's practically shouted everywhere you look, there's an empty feeling and dust covering each surface. It's an impressive home though- high arching ceilings, wide tall doors, and cold marble everywhere.

"The nostalgia's hitting hard today." Tim says, trying and failing to laugh. "Nothings changed at all last time I was here. Of course, last time, my parents had just died."

Damian raises an eyebrow. This is interesting. Timothy  _ never  _ talks about his parents, beyond using their names as curse words.

"They had just died?" He asks carefully, following Tim into a hallway of display cases.

"Mm-hm." Tim hums in agreement. "Plane crash. My mom died instantly, but my dad died after a few days in a coma. After that, all my relatives wanted a slice of the Drake fortune, and therefore,  _ me _ , but I successfully got emancipated."

"Oh. That must have been hard, especially while you were grieving from your loss."

Tim unlocks one of the glass cases. "No, not really?" He shrugs and hands Damian an old vase. "I didn't know my parents well. If anything, I was grieving for the loss of what could have been then the loss of what I had. Oh, be careful with that vase, it's from the Middle East from over a century ago."

"You didn't know your parents well?"

Another shrug. "I was alone a lot as a child. They provided for me, hired a nanny till I was eight, paid a food delivery service to make my meals, but they weren't around a lot. I did the math once. They were around for about three months of every year."

He grabs another vase and tucks it into his arms, while Damain tries to process. This is revelatory. They'd always wondered why Tim was so completely convinced of his own worthlessness, but this-this explained everything. Emotional neglect.

What a horrific thing for a parent to do.

People like that shouldn't be parents at all.

"How did you survive that?" He asks, unable to keep the sheer shock out of his voice. 

Tim only laughs. "Well, let me tell you, summer vacation was very boring. Now, c'mon, the Gotham museum wanted to display some of Jack's private collection, and I promised I'd have it in today."

They load up the car with the vases, but then Damian drags Tim aside and gives him a tight hug. "I am sorry you had to go through that." He mumbles into the other's chest.

Tim sighs, obviously unclear on what the big deal is (It's  _ you _ Timothy, the boy who warranted three whole angels, who is brilliant and kind and wants to help everyone all the time, Timothy, who shouldn't have been alone for so many years) and returns the hug. "Nothing you could've done, Damian."

Silently, Damian protests against it.  _ Yes I could've done so much more, if only we'd come here sooner, if only we knew about you. _

Damian is an Al Ghul, and he might hate the rest of the world for their cruel ways, but family he will protect until his dying breath. Somehow, it doesn't surprise him Timothy has become one of his family, one of his gaggle of brothers.

_____________________________________

"C'mon Timmy, have another sip. I don't know why your fever isn't going down but we have to keep you hydrated."

"Oh yeah, I think I know why."

"You do?"

"It's probably because I don't have a spleen."

"..."

"You WHAT!?"

_____________________________________

  
  


Tim's in bed, taking a nap that was much needed, and the three brothers find themselves all in the same room for the first time in weeks. Of course, because Dick is an older sibling and Annoying Like That™, he gathers Damian up in his arms and sits on Jason till they create a angel brother totem pole.

"Get off." Jason growls.

"Let go." Damian snarls.

Predictably, Dick neither gets off or lets go.

"C'mon guys." Dick whines. "Tim likes my cuddles!"

"Timbo likes  _ all _ cuddles. I think if he could live attached to another warm body all his life he would be the happiest kid alive." Jason says, shoving Dick off to the side roughly, then kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.

They fall into silence after that- not the awkward kind, but the kind where you're just happy to be in there. Of course, there are cries and grunts and curses from Damian as he struggles to be free from Dick's arms, but the other two are ignoring it.

"Y'know." Dick begins, slowly. "I've been thinking about why all three of us were sent."

Jason snorts. "Maybe because he needs three babysitters to keep him from the coffee? I swear, one of these days, I'm going to find out how he sneaks past me."

"True, but I think there didn't need to be all three of us."

Both Damian and Jason go still at that, and Jason's voice is quiet and dangerous when he answers. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean one of us could have done this. It would've taken a lot longer, and he wouldn't have been as happy, but one of us would have been enough. I've been thinking about why management sent us down, specifically us, all at the same time."

Surprisingly, it's Damian who figures it out first. "It's because we're brothers."

"What?" Jason asks.

"Brothers." Damian repeats. "Management sent us down because we are brothers, found family brothers, brothers who could take another into their fold."

Jason's eyes widen. "So you think that management orchestrated the whole thing with Tim becoming our-"

"Brother." Dick confirms, nodding.

Jason whistles and sits back. "Dang. I don't want to even know what management is trying at there. I can't even be mad because we got Tim out of it."

"Liar." Damian declares. "You will most certainly be mad at them."

Jason chuckles. "Ya got that right. But I'll tone it down, for Timbo's sake."

They never really talk about it, outside of that conversation and the one at the graduation, but soon enough, each of them refers to Tim as 'little brother' (or in Damian's case, simply 'brother', in this body, he is younger than Timothy). Tim sort of freaks out the first time Dick calls him 'little brother', just as he slips out the door. But gradually he gets used to it, like everything else- the touching, the compliments, the teasing.

It's still a big day when Tim calls each of them 'brother'.

_____________________________________

When Timothy Jackson Drake finally dies, the place up above is a buzz. This the man who warranted three angels- three of the best. And those three haven't stopped talking about the boy they left behind, the boy they've waited for for a very long time. 

When Timothy Jackson Drake finally arrives, there is quite the welcoming party. Curious people come along to see what makes this boy so  _ special _ , or even so  _ sad _ , that he had three angels. Extended family, friends, and definitely Cass who was very annoyed she hasn't met the newest family member yet.

But it's his brothers' arms he falls into, who clutch him tightly and don't let go.

____________________________________

Tim gazes blankly at the wall, just like he has been for the past three hours. He should get up and do something. Eat. Drink. Live.

But really, what is there to live for?

His life feels like a spiral, sinking downwards and downwards and downwards and downwards and downwards and-

Well.

They say once you've hit rock bottom, there's no where to go but up. False conclusion. You can keep walking along the bottom, searching for a ladder, never finding a way out. Rock bottom and Tim are very very good friends at this point.

His therapist wants him on meds. Tim doesn't want the help. He'd rather continue spiraling, heading downwards, walking along rock bottom, until he-

He doesn't think about that part. Even though it's pretty clear where he's headed. A few years earlier, those sort of thoughts would have had Tim up, calling a hotline, his therapist, someone,  _ anyone.  _ But now, there's no one left, and Tim can't find it within himself to get up. He doesn't care anymore.

_ Ding- dong! _

That's his doorbell. Tim frowns. A misguided pizza delivery man? The ghost of his parents? An amazon package he'd forgotten he'd order?

Yeah, last one seems about right.

Tim shuffles over and opens the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole. Mistake, considering this no pizza or box. Instead, it's a human, a real live human, Black haired twenty something year old with a blinding smile, who thankfully ignores Tim's sweats and worn t-shirt in favor of holding out some suspicious cookies.

"Hi! I'm Dick, your new neighbour."

_____________________________________

If you ask around about the legend of the man that had three angels, Dick goes on and on about the sheer goodness of this man, until you forget he needed a reason to have guardian angels in the first place. Jason gets asked this question so much, he pulls out a slip of paper that turns out to be a poem entitled 'A doormat I once knew' that literally is an ode to a doormat with plenty of between the lines hidden jokes and references. It's dedicated to a 'T'. Damian won't answer you at all, too busy to talk to you, but some people swear they saw him, as they walked away, smile and mutter 'Drake.'."

And if you ask Tim, he'll laugh and tell you to ask his brothers.

  
  



	2. A goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holidays for the brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a bit to say at the end, but happy holidays!
> 
> I love these boys :)

  
  


The lights are up, the Christmas tree is fluffed, and the snow has fallen. It’s officially winter. And officially Christmas. 

Welcome to the Wayne/Drake/Todd/Grayson Christmas. Step right in, please, wipe off your boots. Chilly out, isn’t it? Well, sit down by the fire. It’s warm in here.

Yeah, the place is a bit of disaster zone, but. Well. What did you expect?

Settle in.

\--------------------

“But we have to! It’s tradition!”

“Tradition is just peer pressure from dead people.” Tim says dryly, pulling away from Dick and turning back to scrolling aimlessly through Amazon.

“Timmy!” Dick whines. “Come onnnnn. I know you don’t have work because Jason told me, and Damian already told me you finished up your papers before break. There’s no excuses, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“I-uh, I’m kind of tired. I thought I’d take a nap?” Tim tries.

Dick narrows his eyes at him suspiciously, then shakes his head. “Nice try. Get a coat on, we’re leaving even if I have to drag you.”

“Fine. Fine. I’m coming.” Tim says. “What farm are we going to anyway?”

“It’s one near Bludhaven.”

“Ah, your home city. I don’t suppose we’ll be making a few stops on the way there then, see some of your old friends? Wish them happy holidays?”   
  


“If you don’t mind.” Dick says.

Tim is both right and wrong. Right- he does want to see his old friends, though perhaps less friends and more past assignments. See how they’re getting on. Most of the time, his help is enough, but other times, he has to refer them back to management. Either way, he gets a bit attached, and its nice to see they’re all happy.

Wrong- Bludhaven is by no means his home city. Dick does not have any home city, really. He’s a sap that thinks home is where family is.

Tim hauls himself up off the coach with a groan, and stumbles to get a coat on. They’re out the door, ready to pick up Jason and Damian on the way, keys in the ignition, when-

“Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at the sky.”

Clouds, dark and brooding, cover the icy blue-gray sky that always hovers over gotham in winter. Its a veritable wall that approaches, faster and faster every second. They’re coming from Bludhaven, meaning a storm is in the works. Dick opens his phone, checks the weather, and sighs.

Tim gives him a sympathetic smile, though he doesn’t look too sad at the thought of going back into the warmth and blankets. It isn’t all that bad, really. Dick was just looking forward to it. It’s Tim’s first Christmas  not alone with him, and Dick had been excited to take him tree shopping.

“It’s ok, we can reschedule.”

“Right.” Dick echoes. “Reschedule.”

It’s fine. They can do other things together.

_______________________________________________________________

“It’ll be fine, Tim. I’m your bodyguard. I know what I’m doing. You trust me to keep you alive, you can trust me with this. I’ve done far more dangerous things than this.”

“This is different! This isn’t a bullet, this is fire!”   
  


“Despite the fact I agree with you, Timothy, I must admit I do not understand the point you’re making.” Damian inquires.

“Fire, Damian. I live in a part of town with homes that are not built well, and easily catch on fire. I know somebody whose house burned down last year! Not only that, but we don’t know how old my fireplace is, and I’m pretty sure the last time someone started a fire in there was seventy years ago.” Tim explains.

Jason ignores the both of them, who are now getting into the well trodden argument of Tim moving, and crumples in some more paper to toss in. He’s got the firewood all nice and arranged- paper transitioning to thin sticks to pencil width to some thicker pieces. He’ll add in the real big pieces once he was sure the fire was going well.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what TIm is so worried about. Jason is a pro.

“Calm  _ down,  _ Timothy, I am simply saying your job gives you more than enough money to afford a new place. You’d be much better off somewhere else.”

“But what if I like this place? It has character!”

“And are cabinet doors broken off their hinges  _ character _ ?”   
  


“Yes!”

Grinning, Jason takes out a match and strikes it against the strip on the matchbook. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The man narrows his eyes and subtly scrutinizes Tim and Damian, who have now evolved- or devolved, depending on which way you look at it- into arm waving and gestures.

“The coffee shop I like is right around here! So is a bus stop! And I don’t have to worry about lawncare!!”

Nah, they’d be going at it for a while more. Maybe another ten minutes, tops? He flicks another quick look back at them, then murmurs something quietly under his breath. The match sparks and flames up all its own- with a little nudge from Jason, of course. A wide, slightly insane-looking smile splits his face, his eyes light up, and a pleased noise escapes him as the paper flares up into a brilliant flame.

“Uhhh, Jason? That’s… kind of disturbing.”

“Brother is right, please refrain from looking like the crazed madman we all know you are. It does not need to be so obvious.”

As always, Tim makes that little gasping pleased noise whenever one of them calls him brother- a mixture of confusion, pure joy, and surprise. Jason stands up guiltily, staring longingly at the flames, letting the stick he was carrying clatter to the floor. He could stare at that fire for hours…

“Snap out of it Todd!”   
  


Jason tenses and blinks rapidly,turning away from the hypnotizing power of dancing flames and heat. “Sorry, Sorry. Guess I’m a bit of a pyromaniac at heart. Anyway, see? I started a fire safely.  _ Now  _ do you trust me with your precious fireplace Tim?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “On a probationary basis, sure.”

“Ye of little faith.” Jason says, grinning.

Damian quirks an eyebrow. “Oh no. We have faith. Faith that you will cause the house to burn down.”

Tim snorts. “Finally, a sensible person. Hey, anybody want to help me make some hot chocolate?”

Jason sets a new world record for getting to the kitchen. Tim’s hot chocolate mix is perhaps the only food Tim is capable of making other than coffee- he says he got the recipe from a random old man, but that story seems a bit shifty. Privately, Jason thinks he got it from a cooking magazine and doesn’t remember which one so he made up a story. It’s not like Jason’s done that before. Nope. He has no experience in that realm.

After a few minutes, casually leaning against the counter and discussing whether its  _ platypuses  _ or  _ platypi _ , Jason suddenly realizes he left his phone in the other room and goes to fetch it.

His feet can’t move.

His mouth is stuck open.

There’s a bit of an inferno in the living room, and it's clear as day what happened- the stick Jason had dropped earlier must’ve landed on the stacked take-out containers that Tim always seems to have, no matter how many times Jason’s declared an impromptu cleaning session (and of  _ course _ Tim had to get cardboard boxes, of  _ course _ he had to be dedicated to saving the environment). From there, it had to’ve fallen backwards and gotten stuck in the grate. And somehow, don’t ask him, he doesn’t know, a stray ember or coal had set the stick aflame. The fire must have spread from the stick, to the takeout boxes, to the side of the-

Holy snickerdoodles, the chair is on fire.

_ The chair is on fire _ .

Jason turns around and very calmly walks back to the kitchen. He ignores Tim and Damian, instead grabbing a pot and filling it with water.

_ ThechairisonfireThechairisonfireThechairisonfirerThchairisonfirethecahirisonfire- _

“Jason, are you alright? You look like a ghost.” 

Tim’s concerned face is, apparently, for him. But why would he be concerned? _Everything_ _is fine._

He switches out his pot for a different one, then very calmly, walks back to the living room and dumps the water on the fire. While it’s sizzling,Jason grabs his leather jacket and uses it to pull the charred remains of the stick away from the fireplace and to pat out the flames on the chair. Still unnaturally calm he walks back to the kitchen and grabs the new pot that had been filled up, shutting off the water and taking it back to the living room. He tosses the water from this pot over the flames.

His thoughts are choppy, short, blunt, like a Hemingway novel. There are only two clear ones that stand out, repeated over and over again.

One: Tim is going to kill me.

Two: Why does Tim always have to be right?

“Hey Jay, did you smell…. Something….. Burn- oh for heaven’s sake.”

For Heaven’s sake? More like for  _ Jason’s sake _ .

“I- Shoot, Tim, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? You better be, Todd, you just ruined his carpet!” Damian shoots him a clear look that says  _ we are here to help Timothy, not hurt _ .

“Jason…” Tim begins, slowly. Jason braces himself. Tim could kick him out. No- wait- that’s not Tim. No, Tim’s going to give him a tight smile and placate him and retreat back into himself and find some way to twist this into it being his fault.

“Would this be a bad time to say ‘I told you so?”

What.

Tim’s the first one to break, small giggles at Jason’s dumbfounded face turning into rolling-on-the-floor laughter. Damian lets a little smile slip onto his face. And Jason- Jason lets loose a burst of his own hysterical laughter.

“What the heck. Tim.” He gasps. “I told you so. Really. Oh my word. You’re so immature.”

“And you burned my carpet!” Tim replies, before they both fall back into laughing fits. Damian mutters something about ‘idiot fools’, but it’s with no real heat.

And its- this is weird and funny but more importantly, everyone here reacted like they were normal people, with no issues at all. 

“I bet you loved seeing it.” Tim says, once they’ve both caught their breath. “Pyromaniac.”

“I- ok. It was pretty awesome, not gonna lie.” Jason admits, visions of flickering flames dancing in his eyes.

Damain merely sighs and starts to clean up the ashes.

The front door creaks open, and all three of them jump like they’ve been caught stealing from the metaphorical cookie jar. Though in this case, the metaphorical cookie jar is on fire, and nearly burnt down Tim’s house.

“Hey guys, there’s this the weird smeeeeeeeeelllll what the-” Dick takes in the scene in front of him, Tim wiping tears from his eyes, flopped onto the couch, Jason with a bit of crazed and hysterical look in his eyes, Damian grumbling, none of them seemingly concerned about the smoking carpet.

Dick backs away very slowly and leaves..

  
  
  
  
  
  


Tim sighs, bookmarks the giant sloth plushie he’d found, and gets his coat on. Nearly an hour later finds him bundled up in seven different layers, mittens that are far too large for him, and a scarf that Tim’s pretty sure Dick knitted himself- due to the many dropped stitches and garish colors. Dick’s got one arm around him, steering him none too gently through the snow while Jason and Damian forge on ahead.

The trees surround him, filling the biting winter air with the smell of pine sap. Snow is softly falling, flakes landing on Dick’s tongue when he sticks it out, like the child he is. Tim’s always preferred simply standing still and breathing in the feel of winter than interacting with it. Sure, he loves snow, but after living in Gotham his whole life, you get pretty sick of slipping on ice at six in the morning when you’re running to your car for a morning coffee run.

The scene is peaceful. Laughter from Jason, a smile and a wink from Dick, a kind gaze from Damian.

What more could he ask for?

__________________________________________________

“You know you’re not getting out of this.”

Tim stares back at him, desperation deep within his eyes. “Jason. Please. Help me. Anything but this.”

Jason sighs, stretching his back a little. Standing outside the door all day was going to ruin it. Guardian angel his foot, didn’t seem to be helping his back at all. “It’s just a party, Tim. All you have to do is show up, bring some chips, eat a cookie or two, then make an excuse 10 minutes later and leave .”

“No, Jason, you don’t get it.” Tim’s eyes are wide. “Last year, there was-”

Then that’s when it happens- that moment that honestly should have been enough of a tip off. Some guardian angel he was. Tim’s eyes unfocus, glazing over, no longer focusing on anything at all. His shoulders hunch up, and the rest of him curls inwards, away from Jason, away from the world. Half a second, and then he snaps out of it, his eyes focusing back on his work.

“Never mind. Forget about it. I’ll go.” He says emotionlessly, gathering up his papers to walk out.

“Tim?” Jason hesitates. “You don’t have to if you really don’t want to.” 

“It’s fine.” Tim throws him a quick smile. “I bet you’re right.”

Then he is out the door, and Jason forgets about it until the party comes along.

_____________________________________________________

Tim absolutely hates these parties. Who actually enjoyed them? Enforced socialization with your coworkers, who you already avoided every day. Ick. And don’t get him started on the nasty potato salad that appeared every year. Was it made with ketchup? Fermented potatoes? The soul of his mother? Who knows.

Not to mention how awkward it all was, mostly because none of his employees knew how to act around their boss, and it was the upper executive’s party. Perhaps the lower floors had better parties, but this one was an awkward mixture of a PTO meeting and a socialite gala.

And, well.

_ She  _ would be coming.

But it didn’t matter. Really. It didn’t. He was fine, he had nothing to complain about. He could take a few words, because after all, he had Jason and Dick and Damian now, nothing was wrong. Honestly.

Besides, Jason knew, right? Dick would’ve told him. He probably just wanted Tim to go and get over it.

Still, he at least had to be aware of how nasty the potato salad was. Tim was  _ sure _ he got different caterers this year, ones without potato salad.

“Are you sure.” He whispers to Jason, who is also getting his food from the table. They should’ve gone to a restaurant. “ _ Are you sure _ .”

“It’s just potato salad. Why? Is it made with something weird? Are you allergic or something?” Jason mutters, glancing around the room.

“Your funeral. Have fun.” Tim smirks, grinning.

“Yeah, thanks- wait, what? What do you mean? Tim, tell me, what’s in it!”

The only response Tim gave is to laugh at him in his confusion. The poor man would know soon enough.

They get their food and settle next to an enormous, wide, and very obscure potted plant that had been conveniently placed to hide them. Hopefully there’d be a lull of activity, and they could eat in peace. Well- as much peace as you could get after the first bite Jason has of the potato salad.

“What.” He says, face scrunched and eye twitching. “What did they  _ do _ to this? What monster, what sadist, would label this as edible?”

Tim loses it; he giggles, leaning against the wall, tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, wow, does my dress look that bad? I thought you might be a bit more polite about it, but maybe not.”

“Oh! Steph, hey, how’s it going?”

Inwardly, Tim regrets every decision he has ever made, but he half-turns to face her. She looks beautiful, as always, a purple gown pooling around her feet, holding a flute of champagne in one hand (they served champagne?), elegantly poised. 

“Not too well.” She sniffs. “I wasn’t sure about this dress before, but now I know for sure I look fat in it….”

“No! Of course not, Steph. It looks absolutely stunning on you.”

“You really think so?” She asks hopefully.

“Yeah! Purple’s really your colour.”

Beside him, Jason coughs politely. Oh, oops, he’d forgotten to introduce them. “Jason, this is Stephanie, an old girlfriend. Stepanie, this is Jason, my bodyguard.”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “You actually talk to your bodyguard? Like, you two actually have conversations?”

“I- yes?”

“Oh, sweetie. That’s fine, how original! I love how unique and close you two are.” She gestures with her flute towards some other corner. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”

Tim blinks. Is something wrong? “Sure, I guess. I’ll be right back Jason. Enjoy the salad!”

Taking his arm, Steph leads him away to some forgotten corner. She shoves her champagne flute into his hands and plucks another from the tray. It’s a maneuver well practiced, fluid and mesmerizing. Does Steph actually practice that? He can totally see her doing that, enlisting one of her new boyfriends to pretend to be a waiter. She had him do plenty of weird stuff, he wouldn’t put it past her.

“Steph, you know I don’t drink.”

She waves a hand in the air. “You looked like you needed it.”

It’s no use ever telling Steph no, he’ll have to sneakily deposit it on a passing tray. “So, what’s up?”

“Tim.” She hisses. “You really don’t know?”

“No?”

Her face softens into a pitying gaze, and she lays a hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay. Poor guy, I bet nobody ever told you. Of course you wouldn’t know.”

“Tell me what?”

“Timmy, you’re not supposed to talk to the bodyguards.” Steph declares. “They’re there to protect you, not to be your buddy, you know? It’s like being best friends with the waiter at a party. If you want to look professional, you really need to stop talking to him.”

He hears what’s she saying, but distantly, too stuck on her very first word. Timmy. She’d just called him Timmy. Dick calls him that too, but in Steph’s mouth, it sounds… wrong. No. Who was he to think that? She’s just trying to be nice.

“Oh. Really? I thought….” Tim falters.

“It’s okay sweetie, you thought wrong. You can talk to me, instead! Unless you think a bodyguard is a more interesting conversationalist than me. That’s fine then. Go on, back to your buddy.”

“No, Steph, I want to talk to you! Thank you for letting me know. So, uh. Tell me about your dress?”

She launches into a story of how difficult it had been to get the designer to custom make the dress,  _ she doesn’t do it for just anyone, but I managed to persuade her to _ , and Tim fidgets restlessly. Was it really so unprofessional to talk to bodyguards? That might be why the deal last week hadn’t gone through. He’d thought it was the fact that the new intern had accidentally spilled coffee on the man, but maybe it was actually his fault. It would be lonely, not to talk to Jason at work anymore, but if it kept them in business, and more importantly, his employees in jobs, he’d do it.

Steph pauses, and Tim smiles and nods vacantly. Something about his blankness must’ve made her suspicious though because she leans in and glares at him. “Were you even listening?” 

“Yes, of course, so sorry! I guess I was just thinking about what you’d said earlier.”

She nods seriously. “Well, we all make mistakes, Timmy. I’m just surprised nobody told you. One would’ve thought that secretary of yours cared enough to say something.”

Timmy again. A wriggling tingle of a  _ wrong _ feeling worms its way through his gut. When Dick says it, he feels all warm and happy and cared about, but when Steph says it, it just doesn’t feel right. Not that Steph doesn’t care about him! She had been his girlfriend, after all, until they’d broke up because she said she was too busy for a relationship.

“What’s her name, your secretary? Tam? Always a bit too ambitious for her own good, if you ask me. I bet she has it out for you, that’s why she didn’t say anything.” Steph comments idly, downing another flute of champagne. How she doesn’t get drunk, Tim doesn’t know.

Tim wrenches his thoughts back to the present. “Oh, no, Tam’s great. I don’t think she does, she’s really nice.”

“Really nice, huh? Oh, maybe she’s interested in you. That would get awkward fast.”

“Tam’s not….” Is she, though? There had been a few times with some lingering glances, exchanged words… what is he thinking? Tam has a boyfriend already, and she is far too professional to let romance affect the workplace. “She’s not. She already has a boyfriend.”

“Ah. That’s good to hear. Say, speaking of boyfriends, did you see Amelia? I heard her boyfriend just broke up with her, smart man. She’s a total witch-”

Tim responds in all the right places, still stuck on never talking to Jason at work again. Or is it just work? Would he have to cut on anything informal entirely? Oh no, what if Jason had known about the whole ‘you-shouldn’t-talk-to-body-guards-at-work’ thing and had just gone along with it because he didn’t want to be rude? Has Tim been embarrassing him this whole time? He feels aweful, now. He must’ve ruined so many things for Jason and never even known.

“By the way, Timmy, you really need to work on getting new coffee machines for the break rooms.”

“What? I thought you guys already had them.”

Steph snorts. “Machines that barely work. Look, Tim, I know you’re busy and all, but you gotta start looking out for the little guy, okay? We matter too. It doesn’t concern you, I know, but maybe spare a passing thought for us?”

“I’m so sorry! It totally does concern me, I’ll work on getting new ones right away.”

Oh no. Is he really that bad? He tries so hard to be aware, but maybe he is too concerned with upper level employee politics...

The rest of the party passes this way, Steph keeping him in the corner for another two whole hours. He’d planned to leave within ten minutes. From across the room, he can see Jason watching intently, but of course he doesn’t come over to talk. Because, as everyone but him knows, that’s unprofessional. 

Tim frequently places the flutes he gets onto trays as frequently as Steph passes him new ones. Is she trying to get him drunk? (Of course not, this is Steph) Either way, she knows he doesn’t drink, but she said she had a really bad memory with those kinds of things, so Tim just has to be patient with her…

Eventually, the party starts to wind down, and she departs in a twirl of her gown and a waving hand. Tim sags in relief against the wall. He can barely remember half of the things Steph said needed to be changed. Getting that through along with all the other work he has to do is going to be a nightmare, especially in the holiday season, but if it's as bad as she says, it’s the least he can do.

Jason finally approaches for the first time that night, appearing alongside him.“You alright, Tim?”

“Fine.” He replies, curt. Professional. “Let’s leave.”

“Okay, cool then, geez.”

He knew it. How did he miss this before? Jason clearly hates talking to him during work. It’s so obvious literally everyone but him had to have seen it. He feels so stupid.

They walk out, heading to his car. The snow does absolutely nothing to muffle the awkward silence. It’s not until they both climb in that Jason speaks.

“I’m serious, are you okay?”

They’ve left work, he’s okay to talk, right? “Yeah, sorry. Just realized we probably shouldn’t be talking at work.”

Jason pauses. “What? You don’t want to… Okay then. Fine. That’s fine.”

They sit in silence for the rest of the ride home. 

Jay’s mad. He can tell. Just like everyone else.

Tim  _ failed _ .

At something, some rules, those guidelines he never learned, and Tim isn’t worth it anymore, but he is way too tired to care. So, instead, limbs heavy and eyes drifting closed, he leans against the door and is rocked to sleep.

_______________________________________

Jason carefully hoists Tim from the car, carrying him up the stairs to Tim’s apartment. He looks peaceful like this. It’s snowing outside, casting a silvery, shifty light into the stairwell, changing the whole scene into some unreal dream. Jason pauses, for a moment, to open Tim’s apartment’s door, and then lays him down carefully on the couch.

Then he collapses onto the chair opposite.

They were only supposed to be there for ten minutes. Ten minutes. Grab some nasty, taste-like-cardboard cookies, make enough small talk to be socially acceptable, and run for it. They’d done it before, it shouldn’t have been so hard. But then Tim had gotten roped into talking with that… person, and they’d been there for a _freaking_ _two hours_.

Jason casts a look at the small boy on the couch (he was 19, Jason keeps forgetting) dead to the world. He looks absolutely adorable, snuggled up in his blanket. Why did these things always happen to Tim? And at the holidays, no less. Just when Jason thinks things were going good, stuff like this would happen. Sometimes he really just wants to lock Tim up in a safe, protected, controllable box, gosh dang it.

Gosh dang it? What has Jason become. Stupid Gaurdian Angel rules, stupid no swearing. Stupid that the worst word he could say is ‘stupid’.

After the party, Tim had…

_ “We should stop talking.” _

Eyes glassy, one foot print after another appearing in the snow behind him, stoically waiting for Jay’s reply.

And then he’d said something stupid like: “Okay, sure.”

And Timmy’s face had  _ crumpled _ . He’d winced, curling up into himself, a pale ghost amidst the snow. But he hadn’t said anything. Nodding in resignation, Timmy-bird had quietly sniffled and climbed into the back of the car, where Jason couldn’t reach him. In both meanings.

Timmy…

His hands twitched, wanting to do something, fix something, but he didn’t know what to  _ fix _ . If it’s been broken the whole time, how do you know what it looks like whole?

The key to this was that girl- the ex- girlfriend. He’d never heard of her. And he’s heard pretty much everything about Timmer’s life. Which meant there is only one person who would know what’s up, besides Tim himself.

But he really doesn’t want to talk to that person. But he kinda needs to know. But he doesn’t want to go----

Timmy shifted on the couch

For Tim’s sake, then.

With one last glance behind, he opens the door and leaves Tim to his peaceful slumber. He barely has to walk to get to his next destination - right next door.

It’s time to see Dickie bird.

_______________________________________

Jason knocks quietly on the door. The hallways of the apartment building are dark, shifty in the light, a liminal space that reminds him of an empty parking lot he’d once been too. It had been back behind some enormous department store, the kind with acres and acres of parking lots that never seem to be used except during the holidays. A young man, still in his twenties, had parked in the furthest spot, and had walked into the cornfield bordering the lot with a note and a gun. The only person who walked out was Jason, holding a body in his arms.

Needless to say, he doesn’t appreciate the reminder.

(Sometimes, you get there too late.)

“Jason?” Dick opens the door, yawning, sleep-ruffled hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

“I have some questions.” He says slowly. “And I think you might have the answers.”   
  


Dick sags against the door frame. “What kind of questions?”

“Tim questions.”

Five minutes later, Jason's wrapped in one Dick’s patented blanket burritos, holding a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, seated directly across from the man himself. At least Dick isn’t actively snuggling him.

“So. Tim questions.” Dick rubs his hands together. “I was thinking he’d like some sort of geeky present, like the ones you see in science museum gift shops? Those Newton ball thingies are pretty cool, he’s the kind of guy who would put them on his desk. But he’s also secretly sappy, so if you do just about anything personalized he’ll probably cry. Scratch that. He’ll definitely cry. Damian and I were thinking about teaming up though, so if you wanna hop aboard with us I’m cool with it. You’ll probably need to clear it Little D as well. What were you thinking?”

“Dick, I’m gonna be upfront here, I didn’t understand a single word you said. What in the flippin’ heavens are you talking about?”

“Tim questions! Ya know, what you’re getting Tim for Christmas.”

Jason’s eyes widen in understanding. “Ohhh. That’s… actually not what I’m here about. It’s a different type of Tim questions.”

But he for sure needs to get on top of the whole present thing. Gotta put that on the mental planner.

Dick frowns. “Then what do you mean? Also, let me know if you want to hop aboard with me and Damian.”

“Will do,” Jason mumbles, looking out at the falling snow. He does not want to have to have this conversation. Whatever the outcome, Dick’s going to get all Mother Henny again and nobody wants that. “Say, has Tim ever mentioned a girl named Stehpanie to you?”

Dick freezes.

Like, full out freezes, goes pale, mouth drops open, the whole works.

“Where,” Dicks starts out, cautiously, carefully, voice intense. “Where did you hear that name? Did Tim talk to you about her?”

“Actually, she was at the holiday party Tim and I went to tonight.” Jason says.

Before he’s even finished speaking, Dick’s leaping up, and sprinting for the door. He snatches his keys from the counter and fumbles, hands shaking, as he tries to open the door. 

“Dick? Dick? Wait, Dick. Dick! Stop!” Diving for him, Jason only barely manages to tackle the elder to the ground.

“Jason, you don’t understand.” Dick says, muffled by Jason’s bear hold. “Tim needs me right now.”

“No, you dumbo, he doesn’t. He’s asleep.”

“...oh.” Satisfied, Jason rolls off of him, and they both return to their spots, albeit one of them a bit more sheepish looking. 

“Okay, what the heck was that about? Who is Stephanie?’

Dick leans forward, focusing on Jason’s eyes. “I’ll tell you, but tell me exactly everything that happened at the party.”

“But-”

“Jason. Trust me, I need to be sure.”

Shrugging, he relates everything he heard. It wasn’t much- despite all of his angelic powers, Jason was a) a bit distracted by all the loud people around, b) washing out the taste of that nasty abomination of potato salad, and c) actually, ya know, doin’ his job. Scanning for threats and all that. So really, all he heard came in bits and pieces, odd remarks from Stephanie, quiet, cut-off answers from Tim, frequent scenes of the girl passing Tim glasses of champagne. 

And then, of course, he mentions the first words she’d said to Tim, and the way he’d acted at the end of the night.

“She was all like ‘Oh, you still talk to your bodyguard?’ And then going home Tim told me we shouldn’t talk at work. What was up with that?”

Dick looks pensive, staring out the window. When he speaks, it’s in a whisper. “When we… when we first got here, Tim wasn’t in a good place, right? For a long time I was lost on why he seemed so convinced of his worthlessness until the day I caught him as his friends were leaving. They weren’t…” Dick huffs a bitter laugh. “They weren’t exactly the nicest. Toxic, definitely, the red flags popped up all over the place. I had a hard time even being in the same room as them.”

The man grimaces in memory; guardian angels physically react to unkindness and evil. “I struggled a lot with getting Tim to admit to the problem. It was… a battle. I don’t like to talk about it. Suffice to say, I’m glad they’re gone, and if they ever come back, we’re all moving out of Gotham. Anyway, Steph wasn’t exactly a part of that group, but she played a part in the problem. She worked as Tim’s personal assistant, for a time, and as a secretary near him. Steph had some problems with another boyfriend? Or maybe it was non- consensual. Not sure, but she got pregnant because of it, and had to give the baby up for adoption. Tim helped her get through that, and I know he always felt a sense of duty afterwards. Duty that turned into a sort of trap. I only caught the tail end of her and Tim’s relationship, but it was.... nasty near the end. ”

He finishes the rest of his hot chocolate, then suddenly slams it down on the table with a loud thud, startling Jason. “Man! I  _ hate _ talking about this. I hate it, I hate her, I hate that she’s come back.” 

Dick glares at his hot chocolate, face set in a snarl. With a movement that makes Jason flinch, he snatches the empty mug, and  _ throws it _ at the wall, where it shatters into a million pieces of sharp-edged ceramic. Dick’s eyes are wild, his breath coming in heavy pants as he stares at the pile of shards.

Oh. Jason’s seen this before- the infamous Dick Grayson temper. As much as his brother buries it under sunshine and smiles, there’s an intense fire burning underneath it all, one that rages at the world. And Dick rarely gets angry, but when he does, it goes pretty quickly to  _ furious _ .

“Hey, Dickie, calm down.” He placates, hands outstretched. “Calm down. We’ll figure this out.”

“No we won’t! That witch is back, and now Tim’s going to go into another depressive spiral, and we won’t be able to reach him, and then I’ll have to go through that first year all over again, except I’m not sure I can  _ do  _ that all over again, so Tim’s gonna go up to the roof again, and then we’ll be holding a stupid funeral!” Dick yells. “And what’s even stupider is I can’t swear about it! I hate this! I hate it!”

“Dick. Deep breaths, okay.”

“No! This isn’t a time for some stupid deep breaths, this is a time for- oh.” Dick finally, actually,  _ looks _ at Jason, and okay, maybe Jason has some deep set trauma after all these years about angry men. You think being an angel would fix that, but no. It just fixes the physical stuff. What a waste of heavenly power.

And yeah, he’s distantly aware he’s sort of curled up on the couch, instinctively trying to get away from all that angry.

“Oh. Little wing. I’m so sorry. I. Oh gosh.” Dick takes in a shuddering breath and drops his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry. What’s wrong with me today?”

Jason watches him take a deep breath and then leave the room- a system they’d come up with years ago. They’ll both cool down for a few minutes until each is clear headed enough to continue. 

Slowly, Jason uncurls and finds a broom to sweep up the shards. Methodically, slowly, rasps of bristles on hardwood. See, here’s the thing- Dick doesn’t allow himself to get angry often. It’s only after hard assignments, nights that don’t end with everyone alive, people who choose to go back to the bad situations they were in, that Dick starts to shout. He’s like a wildfire- passing in and out quickly and rarely, but burning bright while it’s there (bright enough to scare Jason, and that’s not something he says often). Whatever Stephanie did must have been bad, to trigger that reaction. 

He’s also not ignoring the first part of Dick’s tirade. Nope. Definitely not. He didn’t feel guilty about leaving Dick all alone at all. And he’s totally not being sarcastic. Jason Todd, sarcastic? You must have the wrong guy. He’s about as down to earth as you can get.

When Dick comes back in, he stands and watches Jason sweeping up the shards for a moment (and they’ve been swept up for a few minutes now, isn’t that funny?), before plopping down on the couch and shoving a blanket over his head.

“Hey.” Jason starts. “We can talk about this some other night…”

Dick shakes his blanketed head. “No, we probably need to discuss this tonight. Sorry about that, I’ll try to be calmer.” Shivering, he takes the blanket off and wraps himself up tight in it. The night chills each of them, Dick’s heater probably broken again for the third time this week. Suddenly, it strikes Jason he’s witnessing one of the few times his brother isn’t strong.

He doesn’t like it.

“Stephanie liked to… control people. Manipulate them. And when your name’s Tim Drake, it’s like being a lamp to a moth. She was subtle, in the way she did it, but by the time I came around, it was pretty clear how far under Tim was. I think he had an inkling of what was going on, but you know Tim. He can’t say no. She got into his bank accounts, into his job, started picking and choosing his friends. It’s one of the reasons they were so bad. She made sure he didn’t feel like he had any support except her. Not only that, Tim basically found himself in the position where he either did what she wanted or she left. And then he’d be alone. And, well, it’s Tim, he doesn’t do too well alone. So that’s where they ended up. “ Dick says.

He pulls the blanket around a little tighter. “There was one time, I overheard Stephanie shouting… shouting to Tim that she did all the work, he shouldn’t make her put away her shoes.”

Dick pauses, for a second. “Tim was working eighty hour weeks. Running a company, paying the bills, taking care of literally everything, while Stephanie had quit her job and lived off of Tim’s income. Not sure what sort of work she was doing, unless binge watching Riverdale all day counts.”

Jason can’t think. 

He-

What?

_ What? _

Tim had been in a… He’d had a…. Sure, he’d known Timbo’s life was all sorts of sad, and kind of trashy, and from what he’d heard, his parents were basically non existent, but-

Jason abandons his concerns and flops down next to Dick. Dick looks hesitant, but Jason curls an arm around him and shoves them together, half- hugging his blanket burrito of a brother.

“Jason, willingly cuddling someone? I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Shut up, please.” Jason says gruffly. He hesitates, knowing that his next question is necessary, but not something he wants to say. “Did… do you know if… if Stephanie ever hit him?”

Dick shakes his head, and Jason lets out a breath of relief. Not physical, then. It makes sense, now, why he reacted the way he did, why he didn’t say anything, why he fell into the role of puppet so easily. Why he looked so scared when Jason told him to go to the party.

Oh no.

Oh shi- wait nevermind he can’t swear- llings. 

Shillings? He’s been reading too much Dickinson.

He’s getting off track. That’s mostly because he’s panicking and trying not to focus on the problem, but hey. It’s a coping mechanism. Distracting him from the fact that Tim may have thought-

“So, does Tim know you know about all this?”

Dick hesitates. “Yes? We talked about it briefly, before he asked me to never talk about it again. I’m pretty sure he would never want to think about it again. He also asked me not to tell you guys, but I’m not so sure he thinks I honoured that.”

“So do you think…” Jason says slowly. “Do you think Tim thought I knew all about that history the entire time? That I just didn’t care if he had to talk to her?”

Dick reels back, finally figuring out what Jason did.

That’s why Tim hadn’t said anything about the party. Because he is Tim, and for better or for worse, he can’t say no. And if Jason told him to stop complaining, to go and get over with, Tim would go along with it.

“Gosh.” Jason huffs. “What a horrible holiday party.”

Dick smiles a little. “Guess you’ll have to get him an extra good present this year.”

“Yeah.” Jason sits back, releasing Dick, rubbing his hands in an effort to keep his mind off of things. “So, what do you think’s going to happen now? Tim’ll be okay, right?”

“I hope so. They were only talking for a few hours, anything she said can probably be reversed with a little work. Tim’s aware, too, that what had happened was really terrible and all sorts of wrong, so he shouldn't be running after her again. Drilled that into his brain enough times. As for what happens… I don’t know. I’d hoped she’d disappeared, maybe she will again? But Stephanie’s not the type to give up.” Dick says.

“Hey, maybe we can release Damian on her.” Jason mumbles. It’s late; the blinks are becoming longer and longer. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll worry about Tim’s many, many problems tomorrow.

Dick laughs, long and a little hysterical. “That would work, he’d tear her to shreds.”

“Mm- hm.” Jason replies, tugging Dick’s blanket so they can share. “Give him something productive to do.”

“Yeah.” Dick’s quiet, arranging the soft blanket over both of them, watching the snow fall as Jason lays his head on Dick’s lap. Quiet, he notes distantly. Dick’s never quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Dick offers no clarification. A one-size-fits-all isn’t his favorite kind of apology, but good enough for him.

“I’m sorry too.” Jason gives in return. “We’ll be there, next time, if there’s a next time. Promise.”

Dick’s voice is brittle, when he speaks, the cheerfulness and anger and literal sunshine that make up Dick Grayson leaking away. “Thank you.” He says, then squeezes Jason’s hand (three times,  _ I love you _ . Coward. They could never say it aloud). Jason squeezes back. (Four times,  _ I love you too) _ “Thank you, Little Wing.”

Then Jason lets his eyes shut for good, leans into Dick’s warmth, and the two brothers drift off.

  
  
\-------------------------   


“So.” Damian says. “This is the woman.”

“Yeah, that’s her. Don’t be too rough, mkay?” Dick requests.

Damian narrows his eyes and turns to Jason, who gives him two thumbs up and a mouthed ‘get her’. Dick shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, electing instead to pass the popcorn to Jason as Damian stalks over to where Stephanie is sitting.

  
  
\--------------------------   


“So.” Timothy says, peeking his head into the room.

“So.” Jason echoes, dealing out another hand of Uno. Damian will win this round, without question. Revenge will be his.

“Yeah, so. Er. Are any of you religious?”

Dick spits out his glass of water and Jason fumbles the deck of cards, spilling it all over the floor. Damian about has a heart attack and almost tips his chair over.

“Why, uh, do you ask?” Dick asks, once he’s done coughing.

“‘Cause I wanted to know if you guys go to Mass or celebrate Hanukkah or something? It’s cool if you don’t.”

“Uh…” Dick looks to Damian for help, but he has enough common sense to stay out of it. There are some problems where it’s clear he’s hit his limits, and this is one of them. 

Jason stands up suddenly, tossing the cards onto the table. “I, uh, gotta go! Heard the oven! Bye!” Then he bolts from the room.

Tim frowns. “The oven? Was he baking something?”

Dick glances around nervously. “Nooo----yeah! With me! We were…. Making cookies! I better go help him!”

Then he, too, sprints off, leaving Damian all alone. Dang it Grayson. The eldest is supposed to be the  _ responsible _ one, not Damian.

Timothy is still staring at the door, confusion written all over his face. “What was that all about.”

“Cookies, clearly.”

“Yeah… Anyway, no one ever answered my question.”

Damian coughs, stalling. This was not supposed to happen, ever. Cowards, all of them, leaving him alone. What should he say? Oh, yes, I’m actually an angel, so, yeah. Sort of? In fact, your entire life has been a lie, none of us are actually human. Well, we were, but we’re not anymore, and in fact, I was born in the late 1800’s. Surprise!

“I… it’s private?”

Timothy nods understandingly. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to bring up anything. Cool, cool. If you ever want me to help light candles or go with you to church or whatever, just… let me know.”

“Yeah, of course…” Damian agrees, frantically grasping about in his own mind for some way to switch the subject. “So, do you partake in any of those?”

As Todd would say: “Abort mission.” Of all the subject switches he could’ve chosen, he had to go with that one.

“Uh… My mom’s family was Jewish, but ever since they died, I haven’t really celebrated Christmas or Hanukkah or anything… I went to Steph’s house once for Christmas Eve dinner.”

“You...haven’t celebrated Christmas?”

Timothy picks up a hand of cards, whistling. “Someone had a good hand. That’s three plus fours.”

He  _ knew  _ Grayson had a guilty expression on his face.

“Timothy.”

Timothy pauses sorting the cards by colour (preposterous, by the way. The cards should be sorted by  _ number _ ). “I’ve celebrated Christmas. It’s just been a while.” 

“Hmph.” Damian says. Been a while? That warrants a little skepticism. “What did you normally do for holidays then, back when you celebrated them?”

“Well… my parents didn’t always manage to make it back for the holidays…” Timothy moves on to Jason’s hand, sorting that one. “When they did, we didn’t really have all that many traditions. Usually we’d stay with my mom’s family and celebrated… one year, everybody in my extended got really sick and we had to stay home. My parents planned to skip the holidays because of that, but it snowed really hard and their flight was canceled. So I got to spend time with them that year.” Timothy smiles, the next memory is a good one. “We built snowmen together. They got out carrots and everything, and I got a whole lesson on the miracle of 1511.”

“The miracle of 1511?” Damian asks, definitely not also trying to sneak a peek of Jason’s hand.

“Uh, yeah. My parents liked history like that. It probably wasn’t appropriate for an eight year-old, but eh. Whatever.” Timothy sets down the cards (was that a blue six or nine?). “Look it up on your own sometime. Anyway, that’s really all I can remember. Also, Jason has the worst hand ever, go easy on him.”

“No promises.”

Timothy laughs, holding his hand out for Damaian’s own cards.

“I’m not going to give them to you, you’ll mess them all up.”

“But you’ll do it anyway~” Timothy sing-songs, and Damian sighs, dumping his cards in the outstretched hand.

“Oh yeah!” Timothy bursts out. “There is a thing! I can’t believe I almost forgot!”   
  


“Forgot what?”

“My hot chocolate recipe!”

Oh, now this, this is important. This is vital information.

“Do you know where I got that?” Damian shakes his no. “Well, when I was younger, I used to go to this coffee shop and just sit there, sipping black coffee for hours. Just sitting there. Kind of like how people get black out drunk to “forget” and stuff, except I was thirteen and edgy and wasn’t legally allowed to drink alcohol. Anyway, I was there on Christmas Eve one night, and this old guy comes up to me and asks if I’m okay. And I’m like yeah, I’m fine. Then he nods, wishes me a merry Christmas, and says he’s handing out hot chocolate packets to random strangers and gives me one.”

Timothy hands him back his cards, then finally sits in a chair. “So I, being a Gothamite, go home and immediately decide there is drugs in it. But also being a edgy thirteen year old, I decided to try it. In retrospect, that was a terrible idea, never do that. Either way, it was the  _ best _ hot chocolate I’d ever had. So good I thought there were actually drugs in it. Next day, I went back-”

“Christmas day?” Damian interrupts.

Timothy nods. “My parents were on a trip that day. Anyway, coffee shops closed, but the guy’s sitting outside. We got to talking, and he gave me a recipe. I still visit him, every Christmas Eve.”

Damian sits back, rearranging his hand again because Timothy had messed it up. “What’s his name?”

“Alfred.”

\-----------------------------------

  
  


“Hey Damian, ready to go present shopping?”

Damian is perched at his desk, frowning over a painting of a couple walking through manicured lawns, one leaning down to kiss the other’s glove. Oh, right, Jason’s present. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, strolling together.

“Bit… preoccupied…”

“Cool, cool- how long do you think you’ll need?” Dick says, fiddling with his gloves. He’s been ready to go for ten minutes now, getting kind of hot.   
  


“I don’t think I will be able to accompany you at all, my apologies.”

“Tomorrow?” Dick tries.

“Mmmmm, yes, reschedule….”

“Right.” Dick echoes. “Reschedule.”

It’s fine. They’re fine. It’s just shopping, they can do it later.

  
  
  


\-----------------------------------------

One of Dick’s fondest memories is wrapping presents with his parents. They didn’t have much, in his time (working in a circus as underpaid and underfed immigrants who could barely speak English didn’t really help with that), but he’d wrap some small thing for each parent with the other. He was a bit young to understand that the things he was giving weren’t worth much at all, but its still a bright spot.

Either way, wrapping presents is a big deal.

And sue him, for wanting to do it with the people he cared about.

“So… you’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Jason says remorefully, straddling his motorcycle. “Sorry Dick, gotta message from management, you know how it is. Reschedule?”

“Right.” Dick echoes. “Reschedule.”

It’s  _ fine _ . Really. It’s not like any of his family doesn’t seem to want to spend time with him this Christmas or anything. He’s an angel, these things don’t bother him. And as long as they are happy, that’s what matters.

Yep.

It’s  _ fine. _

\----------------------------------------------

“I don’t-” Damian grunts as the bag spits out another blob of icing. “I don’t understand the point of this. How does one control this!?”

“Control it?” Jason laughs. “It’s not a weapon or something Damian, it’s just an icing bag. It pipes icing. That’s not too difficult.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-minored-in-culinary-arts.” Dick says, dumping another handful of sprinkles on. It’s, what, the fifth?

“Hey, Tim seems to doing pretty well!” Jason protests.

They all turn to Tim, who’s gingerbread man looks a little like he’s been mugged then had all his organs harvested.

“Tim.” Dick says slowly. “You- you okay there?”

Tim sends him a blinding grin. “Yeah, having a great time! Why?”

“No- no reason. You keep doing what you’re doing.”

“AH!” Jason’s shriek splits the awkward conversation.

“What?” Dick whips around. “What happened?”

“Jason was wrong in his assessment that the icing is not a weapon.” Damian explains cryptically, holding a now-depleted icing back. “All things are weapons in the correct context. This one could be classified as a gun.”

“He shot me!” Jason shrieks again. “In the eye! Ahhhhhhh my eye!” 

He sprints out of the room and to the bathroom, frantically splashing to get it out. Damian shrugs in response to Dick’s glare.

“I did attempt to warn him.” 

Tim sidles over to Damain’s icing bag, staring at it thoughtfully. “A weapon, you say? The thrilling sequel to the potato gun, perhaps?”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Perhaps.”

“But what if…” Tim continues. “What if you combined the two? A potato  _ and  _ icing gun? Ultimate food-based weaponry?”

Damian stares at Tim. Tim stares back.

“Hold up I don’t think I like the direction this-” Dick breaks off suddenly as the two race off to parts unknown. “Oh no. Oh no. Jason, what have you done?”

“Me?” Jason says, stumbling out of the bathroom, clutching his eye. “What have  _ I _ done? Why are we blaming me? It’s all the brat’s fault.”

“You’ve unleashed a new kind of evil on this world, Jason. No one is ready for a potato icing gun.”

“A… potato icing gun?” Jason asks, befuddled. “Icing that tastes like potatoes? How would you even… never mind. I’m going to drown my sorrows by eating Jerry.”

“Jerry?”

In response, Jason bites of the head of his gingerbread man.

“You named your gingerbread man, only to eat him?” Dick gasps. “The cruelty.”

Jason stares him straight in the eye, then says deadpan “He deserved to die.”

“And what…” Dick asks fearfully. “What did Jerry do?”

Jason swallows the last of the gingerbread man, and turns away to stop Tim and Damian. The world isn’t ready for a potato icing gun. But before he goes, he stops by the doorway, and says “He invented potato icing.”

\--------------------------

“So. I have good news and bad news.” Jason announces as he strolls into the room where Dick is frantically hiding all evidence of his present wrapping for Jason. “What do you want first?”

“Uh… “ Is it about Tim? Anything involving bad news is usually about Tim. Tim is a bad news magnet. “Bad news.”

“I saw Steph today.”

Dick about faints. There is too much blood rushing to his hand, there is a distant sound of screaming in his ears-----“WHAT.”

“Do you want the good news?”

“How in the world is there good news to be associated with  _ that _ ?” Dick spits out. Steph is the bringer of nothing but bad news.

“I also saw Cass.”

Say what. Cass? As in, Cass, their sister? As in, Cass, warrior angel, defender of the helpless, rescuer of those gone astray? Cass, who rescues lost souls and reforms their ways, guides them to better paths, makes people who are bad good, and who are good better?  _ That _ Cass?

“Wait…” Dick says, realizing what he’s getting at it. “You think Cass is helping  _ Steph _ ?”   
  


“Well,” Jason says, shrugging. “Probably. I waved at her, but she made the ‘I’m on a case symbol’, so I couldn’t go talk to her.”

“Oh, wow, Cass… Dang…”

Helping Steph? Stephanie? The person who single handedly messed up Tim’s life almost beyond repair, ruined any ounce of self confidence the kid had? The one person on the Earth that Dick hated with his whole body?

Steph didn’t deserve Cass’s help.

No. No, that’s not right. Angel creed. All people have a chance. There is no rock bottom, no place dark enough that someone can’t be saved from. Everyone deserves a chance, and everyone gets a chance.

But Steph-

Steph deserves one too.

As much as Dick hates her, he does recognize he’s biased. He doesn’t know her whole story. He knows nothing of what she's been through. And even if she really is that bad, she still deserves love and help. 

Still a horrible person in his book though.

“Anyway.” Jason continues, unaware of Dick’s internal conflict, stealing one of Dick’s stashed holiday treats. “I also remembered that Tim hadn’t met Cass yet, and probably won’t ever be able to.”

“Huh. He’d like her, wouldn’t he?”   
  
Jason grins at him. “He’d love her. She’s family, after all. Hey, what’s on the floor? Is that the new book by-”   
  


Ahhhhhhh shoot shoot abort mission---- he’s seen it he’s seen it---- time for a certain brother to be escorted away-!

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-! I think you should leave, goodbye, farewell-” Dick pushes him out the door- “Have a good day!”

Phewph.

Close one.

\------------------------------

“Jason! I require your help!”

Welp. There goes any work he was hoping to get done on his motorcycle. “Geez, chill kid. What’s up?”

Damian shows him his computer screen, with so many tabs that you have to scroll through them (there’s fifty-two in total). And there’s like four windows, and three different web browsers open. What the  _ heck _ is this.

“Damian, are you okay?”

Dick stares at him with blood shot eyes, not electing to even answer.

“Ooookaay then. Why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I have no idea what to gift Timothy.” Damian whispers. This is a broken man.

“ _ That’s _ your problem? That’s the easiest problem in the world.”

“What?”

“Here, give me that.”

Laughing, Jason types in the address for the game shop nearby. The brat can’t go wrong there.

Damian screws his face up when it pulls up. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Very. I’m serious, get him some dice or something.”

“ _ Dice? _ ”

\--------------------------------

There are presents strewn  _ everywhere _ . Tim’s already mesmerized by the new dice he got (and is probably ready to bolt the second they’re good to go so he can try out the new console he got). Jason has long since tuned out the rest of the world and settled in with his new book and fuzzy blanket. Damian’s got to sketching with his new set of charcoals. 

Everyone seemed really pleased with what they got. Good. That’s good.

“So!” Dick says as cheerfully as he can. Which isn’t really, but if  _ you _ got nothing for Christmas, you wouldn’t be too cheerful either. “Is that everybody?”

“No, of course not, Richard.” Damian says, setting aside the sketchbook. “There’s still yours we haven’t gotten to.”

“Mine?”

The little bit too much hope in his voice makes Tim look up from his dice, rolling his eyes. “What, did you think you got nothing? We didn’t just  _ forget  _ to give you a present.”

“Well, no-”   
  


“Let’s get on with it!” Jason interrupts him, setting aside his book as well. “Skip all the emotional trash, thanks.”

“What a beautiful introduction.” Damian says deadpan. “I’m wiping tears from my eyes.”

“Oh, shut it. Tim, will you do the honours?” Jason gestures in the smaller boy’s direction, who whips out a small box that had been… hidden in the side of the couch? How long had they been planning this?

“Of course.” Tim walks over with a big grin on his face, handing him the small box. “Here you are Dick. From all of us.”

It’s an unassuming box, all white, unmarked. Thick lid though. Cardboard? There’s a small stain on the edge. Glossy. Does that mean-

“Oh, just open it, Richard.”

Dick lifts the lid-

“Plane tickets?”

“Well, we all know you’ve been wanting to spend time with us Dick.” Tim explains. “And we’re always busy. So we thought we could all get away somewhere for a week, uninterrupted family time.”

_ That _ makes Dick look up. “Family time?”

Tim has the  _ daring _ , the  _ disgrace _ to look ashamed for that statement, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not that I’m family or anything. Uh. But there’s resort tickets in there as well, and- ougmph!

Dick sweeps up in a tight hug, tight as he can, trying to squeeze every feeling he can into this one moment. Gosh, he loves this kid so much. Loves all of them so much. He says as much out loud, and he swears he can feel the heat of Tim’s blush.

“Welp, looks like that’s the cue for group hug time.” Jason grumbles. “C’mon brat, pile in.”

Another pair of large, warm, calloused hands, encircle them, as well as smaller, darker ones. He hugs them all as tight as he can, this little nook in the world he’s carved out for his own, these wonderful people he doesn’t deserve, this- 

Family. 

His  _ family. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> This is it.
> 
> This will probably be the last thing I ever post for the Tim Drake fandom. WHat? Yeah, yeah, I know, no one cares. But I did want to say something before I go- thank you. If you've ever commented or kudo'd on one of my fics, thank you, it meant so much. If you've ever written for the fandom, thank you, you did something amazing. And if you're here in the future, hi! This community is pretty bloody amazing. I welcome you to a world of fics that will make you cry and laugh and SO. MUCH. 
> 
> I created this account at the beginning of the year, January first. It's only fitting that I end it at the end of one of the strangest, horrible, wonderful years yet.
> 
> If you need me I've moved on to making fanart for my new obsession, Dream SMP (shameless plug: insta @lonelysheepstudios) and betaing for BlueLiliesStars on her fic. (Go read that! There's some cool stuff in store!)
> 
> Thank you. All of you.
> 
> ~~~~~•~ :)


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